Just Once - Yoongi/Suga One-shot

Just Once - Yoongi/Suga one-shot

Warning: graphic descriptions of drug use and heavy angst. 

Words:  2,733

It was your mother who’d provided you with first taste of heroin.  You were fourteen then and she’d been a junkie for as long as you could remember, a habit left to her by your absentee of a father, and it hadn’t taken long for you to become addicted too.   It was odd, but sharing that nasty had actually served to bring you and your mother closer together. It’d given you a common ground you’d never had before, and it’d taken both of you working together to ensure you got your next fix, working crummy part-time jobs that just about paid the rent and secured  your drug of choice with not much left for anything else.  You wasted away years like that, lost to oblivion, ashamed but unable to find the will the stop.  Take the heroin away and what were you?  A high school dropout with no prospects, no dreams and a bad reputation.  

It was your mother who’d gotten clean first, too.  She’d fallen in love with a man from your local church; a stranger who’d shown her rare kindness and compassion, a better way to live.  With his encouragement, a whole lot of help and her fair share of relapses, she’d finally rid herself of it.  After that, she’d dedicated herself to getting you clean too.  You’d resisted, at first, despite wanting nothing more than to return to that sweet, innocent girl you were once before.   You were so convinced that you’d fail, that you’d only let her down, that it took months for you to even try, and years to actually manage abstain for more than a few months at a time.  

Now, four years on, you’ve been clean for three, and life has never been better.  You’ve got a steady job, and though the pay cheque isn’t the biggest it’s more than enough to make do after so many years of living on nothing.  Your mother is still clean, and married now, too.   You’ve got a small handful of very good friends and  your own  little apartment complete with a sweet, albeit slightly  aloof, feline friend.  The best of it all, though, is your boyfriend; Yoongi.  

You’d met him two years ago as a customer in the restaurant where you work, and soon became friends.  He liked your dry, sarcastic sense of humour, and you liked his grumpy, old man attitude.  Together you made quite the pair, grumbling and griping at one another but knowing there was affection lurking underneath.  Eventually, that affection spilled over into something more and you’d been together ever since, inseparable most of the time.   

It’d taken you a little while to open up to Yoongi about your past and tell him all the sordid little details about that darkest of times.  You were terrified that it’d change the way he saw you or the way he treated you, but if there was one thing you know about Yoongi, it’s that he’s full of surprises.  Behind that distant, slightly cold exterior is a heart warmer than anyone else’s you’ve ever known, someone so loving and compassionate that he’d barely even blinked when you’d spilled it all.  All he’d done was stroke your cheek, telling you how proud he was of you for ridding yourself of those demons, and how you trusting him enough to tell him had only made him love you all the more.  

You’re convinced that you don’t deserve him - not at all - but he seems to think you’re some kind of perfect, always complimenting and praising you.  It’s a stark, unsettling contrast to the years you spent feeling so worthless, to the way you still feel and think about yourself even now.   You know that Yoongi would think the same, too, if he knew how weak you really are, if he knew the way you still long for a hit every single hour of every single day.   

Today is a particularly bad day.  There’s no reason for it; your boss gave you very little hassle, the customers were polite.  Even the weather’s nice, promising a warm summer’s evening for you to spend with Yoongi on your date tonight.  There’s no reason for you to want it, none at all, but God, you do.  It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, a constant craving that’s had you biting at at your pencils and pens all day and forgetting people’s orders, and no matter how you try to fight it you can’t silence that little wayward voice in your head.  It whispers reassurances and lies, telling you that just one hit won’t hurt, that no one would have to know.  And it’s not like just one time would get you addicted again.  People don’t become alcoholics from just one glass of wine, right?  

Before you know it, you’re seeking it out midway through your walk home.  Contrary to popular belief it’s really not that hard to find, especially for someone like you who knows exactly who and what to look for.  It’s not even always the people you’d expect, either, and when you finally spot a likely looking dealer it takes you less than five minutes and even fewer spoken words to score and be on your way again, a little packet of brown powder in one pocket and a syringe and needle in the other.  

It seems to take forever for you to get home after that.  It’d been too easy and now you’re too eager, fiddling with the packet inside your pocket with shaking fingers, biting your lip in anticipation.  You practically run up the stairs of your apartment when you get there,  flinging off your coat as you shut the door and retrieving the paraphernalia as you check the clock.  Yoongi said he’d pick you up at seven; that gives you six hours to get high and come down again.  Plenty of time.  

Grabbing a spoon from the kitchen and a lighter from the drawer you rush into your bedroom, breathing rapidly as you spread it all out on your bedspread and begin the little ritual of preparation.  It comes back to you far too quickly, like it’s been no time at all, and within minutes you’ve melted the powder into a liquid and drawn it up, a pair of your pantyhose tied around your upper arm to get at your veins.  

You’re just about to slide the needle into your arm when your phone vibrates, making you pause with the bevel of the needle poised ready to slide through your paper-thin skin.  You glance over at where it rests on the bedside table to see Yoongi’s name flashing on the screen, and for a moment you almost come to your senses, hesitating for a minute more until your phone goes dark again.  You missed his call, and now it’s just you, the needle, and the brown murky liquid inside which promises such ecstasy.  

No one will ever know.

Just this once.  

A sharp scratch, your finger pressing on the plunger of the syringe and then the warmth of it entering your veins as you exhale.  You place the needle and syringe on the table, untangling the pantyhouse from your arm and managing to sink back into your pillows with a blissful sigh as it hits.  It’s instant euphoria, a feeling of weightlessness that you’d forgotten how much you missed, and once that initial high has gone the drowsiness comes next, your eyes and limbs heavy, your mouth dry.  You vaguely think that you should’ve set an alarm as your eyelids slide closed, sleep pulling you under deep and swift. 

Yoongi knocks at your door, a small smile on his lips and rocking on his heels as he waits for you to answer.  He knows he looks like a schmuck stood there with a posy in his hand, but he also knows they’re your favourite and he knows the way your face lights up whenever he brings you flowers, so stand there like a schmuck he does.    

After a couple of minutes he starts getting impatient - you’re usually really quick to answer to door, practically throwing yourself into his arms - but tonight he can’t even hear you moving around inside when he leans closer to the door.  He knocks once more but doesn’t give it long before experimentally trying the handle.  It’s unlocked, which is odd in itself, and Yoongi can feel the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise as he steps into your silent apartment.  He’s not sure what it is but something doesn’t feel right, and when he calls out your name to no reply that feeling only gets stronger.

Yoongi pads through your living room, abandoning your flowers on the coffee table and almost jumping out of his skin when your cat suddenly rubs around his ankles.   Hopefully you’ve just gone out and forgotten to lock your door - that way you won’t have heard the girly way he just screamed.  Still, he’s not sure if it’s just his imagination but he could swear even your tabby looks concerned, eyes wider than usual as she turns her back to him and slinks off towards your bedroom, pausing at the door to cast a glance back at Yoongi before slipping inside.  

Instinctively, he follows, trying to fight the panic he can feel rising in his chest.  Your bedroom is dim when he walks inside, your curtains drawn and the lights off.   Your cat jumps up onto the bed, meowing quietly, and it’s then that he notices the  shape of your body underneath the covers.  Yoongi chuckles, the tension from his shoulders disappearing as relief floods through him.   Of course you’re just napping; you’re always napping, and he has come over earlier than you’d originally both planned. Yoongi sits himself gingerly on the edge of your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing gently, calling your name.

“Wake up, sleepy head.”  He keeps his voice soft and playful, jiggling you a little more as you fail to respond, smiling down at your sleeping face.  “Time to wake up.”   Again, he gives you a little shake - one that gradually gets harder and more urgent the longer you say nothing.  Your eyelids don’t even twitch, not even when he touches your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek.  In fact, now that he looks closer… are you even breathing?  

Fear’s gripping his chest so tight that Yoongi can barely shout your name as he yanks back the covers, his voice coming out tight and strained.  He grabs at each of your limbs, climbing onto the bed and shaking you as he kneels beside you, brushing your cat out of the way.    

“Wake up, c’mon,” he growls through gritted teeth, taking hold of your chin and turning your head from the side to the ceiling to frantically scan for any signs of life, but when he lets go your head just lolls to the side again, your beautiful hair falling across your face.   His fingers fumble at your neck, groping around to try and find your pulse, his own thundering in his ears, so loud that it’s almost deafening.  Eventually he finds it, and when he does he has to choke back a sob.   

You’re alive, thank god you’re still alive, but by the thready feel of your pulse under Yoongi’s fingertips he’s not sure it’s for long.  It’s so slow and weak, your breathing just as slow and shallow - you need an ambulance, and you need it now.  He gropes for his phone in his pockets and then curses when he realises he left it in the car, both of his hands raking through his hair as his eyes scan your room to finally land on your phone where it lies on the bedside table.  

Yoongi makes a grab for it, hands shaking, already dialling when he notices what else was sat surrounding your phone before he so hastily snatched it up.   A spoon, a needle, a syringe, and a packet holding the remnants of a brown powder he doesn’t recognise.   Oh, he can guess what it is though, he knows all too well.  

“I think… I think my girlfriend has taken an overdose,” he states to the operator, gazing down at you and taking your hand in his.  His voice is suddenly entirely emotionless, as though he’s in a daze, momentarily detached from the situation.  Your skin… it’s so clammy.  

“Heroin.”  

The operator asks him a series of questions which he manages to answer even though he’s only half listening, his eyes fixed on your chest, obsessed with watching the shallow rise and fall of your chest.  It’s stupid, but Yoongi feels like if lets his gaze shift even for a second the next time he looks it won’t move at all, and that sends a chill down his spine so potent that it freezes his insides, making him physically shudder.   

The kind, softly spoken woman on the end of the line tells him to stay with you - as if he’d go anywhere else - and that an ambulance is only minutes away from the address he’d croaked out.   She asks him to stay on the phone, too, just in case anything changes, and though Yoongi keeps the line open he places the it back on the table so that he’s free to touch you with both his hands.  He rolls you onto your back and lies himself down next to you, placing his head on your chest  as he repeats your name again at again, the dull thud of your heartbeat in his ear the only thing keeping him from keeping him from breaking down completely.  

Or so he thought.  On the other end of the phone the operator hears a man begin to sob, and lying there at your side Yoongi’s whole body begins to heave; great, wracking cries ripping through him as he clutches at your body.  He wraps you up in his arms as he has so many times before, his tears soaking through your shirt and turning it transparent, begging you to wake up so many times that his throat becomes hoarse.  

“You can’t,” he tells you fiercely, clutching the fabric of your pants in his fist and roughly tugging at it, punctuating every word.  “You can’t leave me, you can’t, please.”   Yoongi presses his face into you, inhaling your scent and filling his lungs till he can no longer, a broken wail falling from his lips to be smothered by the soft swell of your stomach.  

“I can’t do this without you, baby… I just… I can’t.”

“Please… you can’t leave me here all on my own.”  

“Nothing makes any sense without you.”

“Just… don’t.  I need you.”

“I love you.  Please.”

“Please, baby.”   

When the ambulance crew mercifully arrives, only minutes later, it’s to a harrowing sight.   A girl lying prone on her bed, pale and barely breathing, limbs limp and unresponsive - a boy curled around her sobbing his heart out, rocking the both of them as he pleads over and over for anyone, someone to listen and not to take her away.   They almost have to wrestle you from Yoongi’s arms, so desperate is he not to be separated from you, uncaring that so many strangers are witnessing him cry and scream, tearing at his hair.  

One of them stays with him as they wheel you into the ambulance, standing together on the pavement watching on as you disappear inside, an oxygen mask covering your pretty face.   It’s silent tears that streak Yoongi’s pale face now, an unfamiliar man’s arm placed comfortingly around his shoulder.  The sirens start and then they’re speeding away, taking you with them, and Yoongi can no longer watch.  He closes his eyes, pressing his lips together as he says a silent prayer that that won’t be the last memory he ever has of holding you in his arms.   

He gives himself barely a minute before climbing into his own car and starting the engine, roughly wiping his tears on the sleeve of his jacket and taking hold of the steering wheel, clenching his jaw. Yoongi makes himself a silent promise as he chases after you through the busy streets, driving way too fast but barely hearing the protesting car horns around him.  

Where you go, he’ll follow; whether it be hospital, rehab or something more lasting, more permanent… as long as he’s by your side.

Where you go, he’ll follow.  

Gifs are not mine - credit to owners.

Remember when an army used google translate. And it translated to “ Are you hor*y to go back to Korea” Vhopes reaction sends me😭

omg that last request was so heartbreaking )': (you are my sunshine, I'm not the one that requested it btw) since I love angst too I would like to know how Levi's behavior would be after the incident pls?? I love your work

A/N: thank you! I love breaking your hearts just as much as my own 😂 enjoy ❤️

𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝑩𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 ❤️ - 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 𝒐𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

Part 1

For the first few days after Y/N’s death Levi was a mess. He refused to step foot into their bedroom, more often than not passing out at his desk like he used to before they’d started dating. Even then he would rarely fall asleep, all his dreams being haunted by her. Images of her angry at him for not saving her plagued his dreams, her sick body reminding him of his mother’s illness in the underground. The circles under his eyes darker than ever, his hair wasn’t as neatly styled as it usually was and his cravat was a bit crooked. He did anything he could to avoid having to go back to their-his room so he kept himself constantly busy. Taking on extra paperwork or cleaning obsessively until there was no room left untouched. Levi had become snappier than he normally was, barely letting anyone get close enough to ask him how he was doing and nobody really wanted to in fear of being snapped at.

Levi felt completely lost, more than once he’d found himself standing in front of her old room not sure how he’d gotten there. There were times he’d want to share something with Y/N, looking up and expecting her to be sitting on the couch in his office but he was always met with the depressing reality that she wasn’t there and she wasn’t ever going to be there again. Late at night he could swear he’d catch a whiff of her shampoo so strong it was almost like she was sitting in his lap. But he knew better. It was only his mind playing cruel tricks on him.

He was angry, angry at himself for not being able to save her even though realistically he knew there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it. A small part of himself was also angry with her, for having left him to survive without her. He was angry at the universe for taking her from him before they had a chance to build a life together.

Levi didn’t know what possessed him to open the door to the bedroom but he found himself looking into the dark room illuminated only by the moonlight outside. It hadn’t been touched since that morning, he didn’t have the heart to clear out her things. Seeing the unmade bed broke his heart all over again as vivid flashbacks of her stiff body in his arms played in his mind. His feet move without thinking as he sits on her side of the bed. Pulling her pillow into his arms the lingering scent of her brings out all the tears he’d been holding back since her passing. He buries his face into pillow, squeezing it tightly against his body as he sobs quietly into it. His heart longed for this to be a bad dream and he’d wake up any second to find her sleeping next to him, healthy again. Levi’s body falls onto the bed wrapping the sheets around himself hoping that it would fill the emptiness inside of him.

“Don’t beat yourself up Levi.” A warm feeling lingered over his face accompanied by a soft spoken voice he’d recognize anywhere. Wide grey eyes lock onto smiling e/c ones, Y/N’s arm is outstretched as her hand cups his cheek.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Levi’s hoarse whisper is faint, fearing that if he speaks too loud his hallucination will disappear, he wanted to savour seeing her for as long as possible even if it was only a figment of his imagination.

“I came to say goodbye, properly this time.” Her eyes looked sad despite the smile gracing her lips. Levi’s hands reach out to grab her pulling her into his arms, his fingers digging into her skin almost bruisingly as more tears escaped his eyes.

“Don’t leave me.” Y/N’s heart breaks at how defeated he sounded, her hands combing through his soft black locks.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay but I wanted you to know that I’ll always be here for you Levi. Any time you feel like it’s too hard to keep going I’ll be by your side and when it’s your time to rest I’ll be waiting for you here.” Her lips ghost over his, tingling with warmth as she pulls away.

Opening his eyes Levi is met with an empty bed once more, realizing he had probably fallen asleep he feels a familiar sense of dread in his stomach when something glinting among the sheets catches his attention. Picking it up he realizes it’s Y/N engagement ring. Levi can’t help but smile through his grief, he wasn’t sure if Y/N visiting him had been real but the light weight of her ring in his palm was enough confirmation that she’d been there.

Erwin had caught Levi grasping a ring in his hand, his presence unknown to the other man as he watched him bring it to his lips before tucking the chain under his shirt hiding it from view. Something had happened that changed Levi’s attitude, no one knew what but it gave Erwin some peace knowing that Levi was finally able to start healing and move on from his tragedy.

Masterlist

Last Time

Park Jungsoo, your boyfriend of four years. How could you describe him? He was everything to you; kind, loyal, caring, adorable, sweet, attentive, genuine, sincere, sexy, humorous, romantic, passionate, determined, handsome – the list went on and on. You two had been together more than long enough for you to know his flaws, but they were all part of the man that you were unspeakably, hopelessly, totally in love with.

The man you had betrayed in the worst possible way.

Warning: Mentions of infidelity

Keep reading

scrolling though the levi x reader tag is so wack like am i gonna see a post about a badass scout who kills giants with ease or will i see a post about an introverted weeb-demon with social anxiety? either way i’m not complaining but it’s strange

why does this one shot of donghae in the skip beat drama radiate so much nakamoto yuta energy

yeah i know quarantine has me like “kylie we read skip beat way back when and we like SJ why have we not watched this fucking drama yet we should do it NOW”

like. what the flying f u c k

was yuta a skip beat fan who watched the taiwanese live action version and came into SM being like “YEAH I WANNA SING AND LOOK LIKE DONGHAE” ??

we are also just not going to speak about that one time kwanghee straight up overshared and said the doctor told him he’d die if he went through plastic surgery to look like donghae during suju’s most recent episode of weekly idol